


Against the Storm

by firefright



Series: Song of the Sea [2]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe, Canon-Typical Violence, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Magic, Manipulation, Merpeople, Origin Story, Pirates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-26
Updated: 2017-02-26
Packaged: 2018-09-26 23:37:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9930971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/firefright/pseuds/firefright
Summary: Years before Dick finds a young merman called Jason washed up on the shore of his home, he himself was rescued from the water by Slade Wilson, a mercenary captain who is far more than what he first seems. When Slade offers Dick his help in getting revenge on the men who ordered the death of his family in a bid to take control of the power he possesses, Dick hastily accepts, and in doing so binds himself into a relationship he has no way of knowing the eventual ramifications of.





	

**Author's Note:**

> For everyone who was wondering about Slade and Dick's past in Caught in the Tide, I present to you a part of it. A part, because the entirety of their history together could be a novel in itself. I may write more pieces with them together in the future, but for now this is the story of how they first met and came to know each other, and much like the previous fic in the series, it was a heck of a lot of fun to write. Enjoy!
> 
> (If you're wondering why the JayDick tag is there on this story, trust me and read through to the end)

They pull the boy out of the sea, in the sudden upswell of a storm that had come out of nowhere only minutes before. Darkening the formerly bright blue sky to almost pitch blackness.

If the dangerous change in weather hadn’t already been enough to bring Slade out of his cabin by itself, the cries of “Man overboard!” would have. He’s there watching as the line is cast, then pulled in - retrieving not one of his men, but this strange creature, a mad teenager crackling with an energy his skin can’t contain; liquid power washing out from behind his eyeballs and down his cheeks in a waterfall.

He’s laughing. A bright, manic laugh, fuelled by something like hysteria, as the rain plummets down out of the sky with enough force to rebound off the tilting waves.

The crew scatter back uneasily. In the space of a second, the concern they had for a possible lost shipmate has been replaced by the superstitious fear that plagues so many sailors. A fear that even Slade can’t scold them for entirely this time, as the boy collapses down on the deck with water dancing on his skin. Here the wind tugs at his hair like a parent’s fond ruffle, completely independent of the screeching gales now tearing at the sails of the ship above and threatening to send them all down into the waiting darkness of the waters below.

But then that exaltation on the boy’s face stutters, breaks, only to be replaced by desperation. He looks up, and in that moment his depthless blue eyes meet Slade’s for the first time. 

“I can’t…” he gasps hoarsely, “I can’t stop it.”

Slade isn’t afraid then. He’s intrigued.

Ignoring the whispers of the men behind him, Slade strides forwards across the deck, easily keeping his balance between one deadly tilt and the next. Salt spray is everywhere: in the air, his skin, soaking through all the layers of his clothing as he kneels down in front of the distraught youth.

“What do you mean,” he asks, “you can’t stop it?” 

Those eyes stay fixed on his throughout the entirety of his approach, and the boy’s hands are shaking when he raises them in front of his face. “The storm it’s… it’s my fault, it’s…”

“Tell me.”

The wind keeps howling, the waves rise and crash as the ship pitches and rolls, but Slade doesn’t move. He listens as the boy talks in fits and starts, of the men who came for him with chains and greed, hungry for the possibilities of possessing his power, and not caring how many corpses they had to create along the way to do so. Of how his family’s boat burned because of their assault, and how, in desperation and grief, he had chosen to cast himself into the waves rather than let himself be taken by them. 

“I just wanted to get away.” The boy says, almost begging Slade to understand, “I didn’t mean to do this. I swear I didn’t.”

Slade looks up. Sheet lightning turns the world blue for a moment as the howling of the wind worsens, threatening to turn the storm into a hurricane. He’s seen enough storms in his lifetime to know that if it doesn’t stop soon they’ll all be dead, the boy included. 

Behind him the crew start to talk louder. They want to throw the boy back into the sea where he came from, certain that the action will pacify the water’s rage, but Slade knows better. This isn’t the kind of situation that will be solved with blood and death. Another approach is needed here, and so he gentles his expression, smoothing his voice out into the same soothing tone he would use on a skittish horse - beyond the hearing of anyone but the boy in front of him. 

“I believe you.”

His eyes widen. “You… you do?”

“Yes, I do. But you’re wrong about one thing: you can stop it.”

“N-no. I… I can’t…”

“You can.” Slade continues, with utmost confidence. “This is your doing. You started it, so you can finish it. This storm is feeding off your emotion, but it doesn’t have to be that way. _Breathe_ , calm down. Make it listen to _you_.”

White teeth tease at a plump lower lip before biting down. The boy looks again at his shaking hands. “What if I can’t?”

“Then the ship will sink, and we will die. All of us.” Slade says matter-of-factly. He has no desire to meet his end just yet, and if he has to be cruel to be kind then so be it. “It’s up to you to make sure that doesn’t happen.”

The boy stiffens, before his hands drop and he digs his nails into the dark grain of the wood beneath them. His head bows in an acknowledging nod, and Slade watches as his slender shoulders begin to rise and fall, heaving as he attempts to draw in one deep breath after another.

“That’s it.” he encourages before reaching over and wrapping one leather-gloved hand around the boy’s bicep. The muscle twitches beneath the hard grip of his fingers, but he isn’t shaken off. “ _Focus_. You’re safe now aboard my vessel, there’s no need for this any longer. Calm the storm and I promise you everything will be well.”

There is no reason for the boy to take his word for it, but Slade is pleased to find he does so anyway, perhaps desperate for someone to trust in the wake of such violent loss. He’s exhausted beneath his fear and the glowing magic-washed tears running down his cheeks, trembling with what the sea is taking from him, yet he obeys. He breathes, over and over, until his shaking begins to subside and the wind slows with it.

The darkness lightens; the thunder fades with one final whiplash crack of lightning, as second by second the roiling waves shrink in size. There are murmurs of awe from the crew when the sun breaks through the clouds in scattered blades of light, but Slade only has eyes for the boy. The curious, wondrous boy with the power of the sea in his veins who started it all. 

The boy who raises his head when the rain stops falling, looks him in the eye, and whispers, “I did it.” with a tremulous smile on his lips before fainting forwards into Slade’s arms, unconscious.

Easily, Slade catches him. He weighs hardly anything, nothing more than a piece of driftwood caught in the tide, and for a moment he simply sits and regards the boy’s unconscious face; golden skinned in the weak sunlight and with the dark tangled tresses of his hair draped across his brow. 

Beautiful as well as powerful, he thinks. It’s no wonder those pirates were after him.

“Captain?” The first mate, Evans, braver than his fellows, dares to approach him. His eyes are distrustful when they stray to the boy, but Slade hardly cares what he thinks.

“Secure the ship. Fix what can be fixed, then make for the nearest harbour so we can attend to the rest.”

He stands up, holding the boy bridal style to his chest. The sailors part like the Red Sea before him as he strides towards his cabin.

“But sir, what about our—”

“It can wait.” Slade says gruffly, dismissing any further argument before it can be made. 

He’ll fulfil his contract, he always does, but for now he’s found something far more interesting to focus on.

_Potential._

_*_

Motion. Dick has lived his whole life to it. The steady rocking of the waves; the feeling of the wind in his hair and against his bare skin. Ever since he can remember, he’s found comfort in movement; fear in it’s opposite, in stillness. When the world was right, it _moved_ and he moved with it. When it was wrong…

When it was wrong, nothing moved.

Because of that, the familiar feeling of a ship at sea rolling beneath him when he wakes up is almost enough to fool Dick into believing that the last twenty-four hours hadn’t happened. That when he opens his eyes, it will be to find himself in his hammock on his family’s boat, surrounded by the colourful paraphernalia of their trade, and that if he only listens hard enough he will hear their voices filtering down through the wood of the deck above him, raised in happy discussion of their next destination and performance. The blood and fire that haunted his dreams will have been nothing but a nightmare, brought on by a poorly cooked supper and an overworked mind.

All he has to do is open his eyes.

Squeezing his eyelids more firmly together instead, Dick buries his face down into the mattress beneath him.

He’s not in a hammock, he’s in a bed, and the ship carrying him now is not his home. He can feel that with every inch of his body. She sits too low in the water for her to be one of the fleet little boats his family uses to traverse the ocean, but if he opens his eyes then that will make it real, and if only for a little while longer he’d like to live in denial. He wants to believe that his parents are alive, not dead. That any moment now his mother will scold him for sleeping in too late. That his father will laugh and tell her to let him be, he’s doing no harm. That his cousin— 

“I see you’re awake, finally.”

Dick freezes. The voice is male, deep and heavy, too heavy to be that of his father or even his uncle.

Is there any point in pretending anymore? He doesn’t think so. That voice has shattered every facet of his fantasy, and with that thought - going against the will of every muscle in his body - Dick opens his eyes and sits up.

He recognises the man sitting in the chair beside him. Big, sturdy; bigger maybe, than any other man he’s ever seen, with white hair pulled back from the surprisingly young face beneath it into a loose ponytail at the nape of his neck. One eye, an intensely bright blue, is focused entirely on Dick, while the other is covered - presumably missing - by a black leather eyepatch. He’s dressed down from when Dick saw him last, in the midst of a storm of his own making.

“Where…” he starts, then winces. His voice sounds like it’s been run through with a saw. “Where am I?”

“Aboard my ship.” The man answers. “And safe, more importantly.”

“Safe?”

“Safe.” he’s assured with a nod. “My name is Slade Wilson, I’m the captain of this vessel, which means you’re under my protection. Now, who might you be?”

“Dick. Richard, I mean. Richard Grayson. But my—” He swallows painfully, “Everyone calls me Dick.”

“Richard Grayson.” Slade repeats considerately. That’s something about the way he looks at him that makes Dick want to shiver, but perhaps that’s because Slade has only one eye with which to see him, making his gaze more intense by default. “Well, it’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mr. Grayson. How are you feeling now?”

How is he feeling? Like hell he wants to say. Like all the world has turned to grey ashes and him along with it, its colour drained and burnt away by the echoes of screams and the flash of cold steel through vulnerable flesh. That’s how he feels. Numb, and broken.

“I’m well.” Is what he chooses to say.

“Call me rude, but I must say that I don’t believe you.” Slade tuts. “No kid in your position could be well now.”

 _Then why did you ask?_ he wants to snap back, but he keeps his tongue still, choosing to look down at the bed instead. The sheets are made of rich cotton, as is the shirt he’s now wearing; white in colour and far too big for him. It must be Slade’s, given to him to replace the sodden mess of his own clothing after he was pulled out of the comforting arms of the sea.

“Here, I have water.” Slade says, after a minute of observing his silence. It’s passed to him in a carved wooden tankard, and Dick can’t help but greedily accept. He’s parched. Hungry too, though not ready to voice that yet.

“Thank you.” He manages after draining it down.

It’s good water. Clean water. From a barrel that must have been brought on board Slade’s ship only recently. Otherwise it would surely taste stale, as most water stored for long voyages did.

Dick has never had that problem. He can pull water fresh from the sea, sieving it clean of salt with just the right touch of magic when he chooses to. His family always drinks well, they always—

 _No_. he tells himself. It won’t do to shed the water he’d just drank as tears before it even reaches his stomach.

“You’re welcome.” Slade says kindly, accepting the cup back once Dick’s done with it. He refills the vessel without having to be asked and hands it over once more. “I know it’s probably not worth much to you, but I am sorry for what happened to your family.”

Dimly, Dick can remember telling him what happened to them. The memory is less clear than he would like, viewed as if through an ocean fog. The storm had been eating through him then, pulling out everything he had as it grew ravenously. But he remembers Slade’s hands steadying him, his voice hard and commanding as he told Dick to calm down and take back control. And somehow he’d done it, right before he had fainted into the man’s arms.

“Thank you.” He says again, because there really is nothing more for him to say.

He doesn’t want anyone to be sorry for him. He wants his family back, or in lieu of that being possible, then to be certain that those who took them away from him have paid for their folly.

Slade sighs at his behaviour, but it’s an understanding, rather than scolding, sound. “My apologies. I can see you’re still tired. We’ll talk more later, and in the meantime you may stay resting here in my cabin, if you like. I’ll have something to eat brought up for you from the galley later, as well. You must be famished after expending all that energy to get here.”

The storm, Dick realises. He’s talking about the storm.

“You’re not… you’re not angry with me for that?”

“Why should I be? There was no permanent damage done. Though some of my crew do feel that I should throw you back overboard.” he smiles, “They think you’re an ill omen, among other things.”

Considering the fate his gifts had brought upon his family, Dick isn’t so sure they’re wrong about that. 

“I’m not. That… that was a mistake. I… it won’t happen again. Please. If you could just drop me off at the nearest harbour, I swear I’ll be no trouble. I’ll work if you want me to along the way, whatever you need for me to earn my keep. I only—”

Slade touches his shoulder. It’s a light touch - they’re strangers after all - but enough still for Dick to sag tiredly into it. “We’ll worry about that later. You’ve suffered a terrible tragedy, and you need more rest before anything else. Trust me, kid, when I said you are safe here, I meant it.”

He wants to weep at the show of kindness. “Thank you.”

It’s the third time he’s said that today, and three is a powerful number.

Slade nods, squeezing his shoulder once more before letting go. “Now rest. Food will be along to you shortly.”

Dick nods, but he waits until Slade is gone - sweeping a long black and orange-accented coat around his broad shoulders - and outside the cabin before putting his head back down to the pillow. It’s the softest bed he’s ever known, but he doesn’t sleep, he can’t. Not when his tears refuse to be held back any longer, soaking through into the rich cotton beneath his cheek.

*

The boy, Dick, is even more intriguing now that he’s awake.

It takes time for him to venture out from Slade’s cabin, and Slade takes care not to push him to it before he’s ready. The majority of his crew still mutter about the witch in their midst, ignoring the fact that he calmed the storm as much as started it.

Short-sighted fools, the lot of them. But it hardly matters in the end, they fear Slade enough that their whispering remains just that. None will have the courage to try and do something to actually harm his guest so long as he commands this ship.

A selkie who lost his skin, they call him. Or a merman who learned how to grow legs; doubtless because of the boy’s natural beauty, obvious even in the midst of chaos. All are fanciful notions that amuse Slade to no end to hear.

In truth, Richard Grayson is something far more special than that. 

Slade gives him a tour of the ship on his first day out, leading him from bow to stern all while taking care to emphasise that he is welcome on board. That he may go where he will, so long as he does not think to cause trouble, and there is the beginnings of wonder in the boy’s eyes beneath the grief; doubtless he has never been on such a large ship before, used only to the smaller nomad boats his family would have sailed in.

“Where are you headed?” he asks Slade at the end of it, anxious as they stand together at the ship's wheel and crowding in a little closer to Slade’s side with every sideways glance the crew throws at him. He looks smaller wearing Slade’s shirt than he did before, younger and more vulnerable than the truth of his sixteen years.

The effect is not one Slade finds at all unpleasant.

“Kerwall Bay. Do you know it?”

Dick shakes his head, “No, but it’s fine. You can drop me off there, I’ll find my own way after that.”

“Kerwall is a fishing village. There’s nothing there for you to find your way to.” He says disapprovingly, one hand resting on the ship’s wheel. “It’s good for us to stop and patch the ship up at, nothing more.”

“I don’t want to impose on you any longer.” Dick replies. His eyes are dark like the ocean’s depths when they flick up at Slade, tantalising him with the possibilities of what might be hidden beneath the surface. “You’ve already been more than kind enough.”

Slade considers what to say next. Obviously, the boy has a streak of pride in him that won’t be satisfied by an offer of charity alone. “You said before that you would work to earn your keep. Then work, at least until we make a larger port.”

“And when will that be?”

“It’s hard to say, but it shouldn’t be more than a month if the winds are fair and I find my quarry in good time.”

“Quarry?”

Slade turns his head to grin down at him, “Did you think this ship a merchant vessel with a name like _The Ravager_ , lad? No, she’s a hunter.”

“I…” Dick shifts uneasily. “No, I suppose not.” He’s warier now that Slade has brought it up. “What is it you hunt?”

“Pirates. Criminals and their like.” he says it casually. It’s not the whole truth, but enough to satisfy the boy’s curiosity. “Anyone wanted by any authority willing to pay me to bring them down.”

“Pirates… like the ones who...”

Dick looks down, staring at the planks between his bare feet (he had refused shoes when they were offered to him). At his sides, his slender hands curl into fists. Anger it seems, has finally started to overpower his grief.

_Good._

“Is that what you mean to do when you leave my ship?”

The reply comes flat, and determined. “Those men killed my family so they could sell me into slavery, or use me to their own ends. They have to pay for that.”

“You don’t think they died in that storm you created?”

“I don’t know.” Now the boy’s jaw clenches. “But I have to be sure.”

Slade does not allow himself to smile as he nods, pleased as he is by the response. With one hand, he signals for the helmsman to come and take the wheel in his stead. “Then perhaps I can help. Come with me.”

He leads Dick back to his cabin, feeling his curiosity as a tangible presence against his back, and once inside shows the boy to his desk, gesturing for him to sit down before pulling parchment, ink, and a quill from one of the drawers.

“What am I supposed to do with this?”

“You saw the flag they flew, didn’t you?” Slade uncorks the ink and dips the quill inside before placing it into Dick’s hand. “Draw it for me now, as best you can remember.”

Dick’s fingers settle awkwardly around the quill, suggesting that he has little familiarity with the skill, but he learns quickly. After a few aborted scratches, which leave blotches of ink staining the cheap parchment, Dick’s hand carefully etches out a symbol Slade finds at once familiar. Pirates are hardly imaginative when it comes to their colours; skulls, bones, and crudely drawn daggers are predominantly the norm, but their captains have pride the same as other men. One would hardly like to see the credit for his own crimes given to another. 

“I know this.” He says, leaning down over Dick’s shoulder to get a closer look. His chest brushes his back, while his hand nudges the boy’s on the paper. “ _The Blue Wraith,_ she’s part of a triumvirate.”

“Triumvirate?” Dick repeats, voice quieter, body tense. He shivered the moment Slade touched him.

“Three allied captains, working together for shared profit and protection against the law.” Slade explains, “You would have been quite the boon for their little fleet, as you were no doubt for your family.”

Dick swallows hard at the information. “Which means even if _The Blue Wraith_ sank, there are still two others out there responsible for their murder.”

“So it would seem.” Straightening back up, Slade rubs his hand thoughtfully over his neatly trimmed beard. “It’s doubtful her captain would have acted without his partner’s approval on something like this.”

“Then I’ll just have to take them down too.” The boy says darkly, hands clenching into fists. The delicate quill snaps in half in his hand, but he hardly seems to notice, too absorbed in his anger to notice the mess now staining his fingers blue-black.

“That’s a dangerous task to take on alone,” Slade points out, “Even for one with your power.”

Dick shakes his head. “I don’t have a choice.”

“There’s always a choice. Remember, I told you what my business is.”

Just like that, Slade has his full attention again.

“Are you… are you saying you’d help me? Why?”

“Let’s just say that, after fishing you out of the ocean, I feel a little responsible for your life. Letting you go off and get yourself killed alone would be poor form on my part.” Slade moves to stand at the side of the desk, deliberately placing himself more easily in Dick’s view as he rests one hand on its polished surface next to a pile of rolled up navigational charts. 

“I can handle it.”

“Really? Do you know how to fight at all, Mr. Grayson?”

Dick’s jaw clenches as he shakes his head. “No, but—”

“And that magic of yours, quite a show of strength you gave three days ago. But one that I think happened entirely outside of your control. Have you ever managed something like it before? Deliberately, I mean.”

“No.” he reluctantly admits again. “I’ve never… I didn’t know I was capable of such power before. But if I did it once, that means I can do it again.”

“Perhaps.” Slade agrees, “But I can make it easier on you. I can teach you to fight with both your hands and a sword, and introduce you to others who’ll teach you better how to control that power of yours.”

“All this for nothing in return?”

Slade shrugs, careful to keep his reaction casual. “I wouldn’t say nothing. As I said before, I will expect you to work aboard my ship as long as you are on it, and capturing those pirates would certainly bring home a hefty bounty for all those involved.”

“I don’t care about any bounty.” Dick says. His initial scepticism seems to ease in the face of Slade’s more selfish reasoning. Young he might be, but the boy is not a complete fool. “I just want them to pay.”

“And they will. But not by your hand alone. Let me help you, and it will be to both our benefit.”

Dick looks down at the roughly drawn Jolly Roger he left on the parchment, and at his own clenched fist. When he opens his hand, the two broken halves of the quill fall down onto the paper, leaving blue ink to trail from the tips of his index and middle fingers. “You really know people who can teach me to control my magic?”

Slade does let himself smile then, knowing that he’s hooked him. “I do.”

“Then all right.” Dick nods. “I accept your help.”

“And I’ll do my best to see that you don’t regret it, and that you get the revenge you deserve.” Slade leans down as he extends his hand towards Dick, who takes it with almost no hesitation. Now the colours of the ocean are painted across both of their skin. “As for teaching you what I know, we can begin as early as tomorrow. That is if you’re ready for it.”

“Believe me, Captain Wilson, there’s nothing I’d like more.”

*

Slade is unlike any man he’s ever met before. Gruff, strong, and commanding, but with a hidden sense of humour that creeps out when Dick least expects it. His offer of help in the matter of finding those responsible for the deaths of his family had been unexpected, and the fact that he apparently means it even moreso.

Dick’s days aboard _The Ravager_ have turned into weeks, and now, eventually, a month. During which time he had come to discover that Slade was a hard taskmaster. Not unfair, but hard. Despite their deal, he clearly expected Dick to work with the same dedication as any of the other sailors that make up his crew; ordering him to play his part in taking on the numerous tasks that come as part and parcel with the running of such a large ship, as well as, on top of that, expecting him to train in the art of combat every day as well.

At first they began with hand to hand only, before moving up to the use of wooden sticks. Or more honestly, mop handles with their heads removed. Slade was gracious enough to show him the most basic steps of sword fighting in the privacy of his cabin, away from the prying eyes of the crew, but to truly learn to fight he said that they must practice out on the deck, where they would have room to move and everyone could see them.

The crew’s suspicion and dislike of him, as well as their disappointment that Slade did not leave Dick behind after they made port at Kerwall Bay, might have faded from its initial intensity, but Dick still can’t say that he feels completely comfortable standing among them. Particularly when he is getting himself soundly beaten, as is what always seems to happen during his and Slade’s daily sparring matches. The captain of the ship is grace and power, deadly force sharpened with equally perfect control. He fights with the ease of a man twenty years younger, and Dick can’t help but wonder - with an occasional tingling in his bones - if there isn’t some hidden magic in Slade as well.

“Good.” he’s praised when he knocks a strike of Slade’s aside, then goes in for a thrust of his own that almost hits the captain’s shoulder in turn. “Better.”

But then, in the blink of an eye, it all changes. Slade shifts his balance, slamming himself forward into an opening Dick was not aware he’d given, and a few dizzying seconds later he’s flat on his back against the deck with the blunt end of the wood pressed against his throat.

There are muffled chuckles from the watching men around them that make him grit his teeth together, but above him Slade is smiling, not from amusement, but pride. “You’re improving.” he says as he takes the staff away, then extends a hand down towards Dick to help him climb back up onto his feet.

It’s a warm day, even out on the open sea, and with that in mind they had both removed their shirts for this match. Dick tries not to look too closely at the tanned lines of Slade’s muscles when he accepts his offer of aid. “Not enough to beat you, though.”

“True enough, but that will come in time. Don’t forget, I have decades of experience on you, kid. There’s no shame in losing to me now.”

“So you keep saying,” Dick says breathlessly, “Though you hardly seem that old.”

Slade grins, “Good living and an exciting lifestyle will do more to keep a man young than a fat fool languishing in luxury inside his castle could ever hope for.”

It feels like half a truth, but Dick doesn’t ask further. He doesn’t get the chance to before Slade slings his arm about his shoulders, hot skin pressed firmly against Dick’s own as he draws him back towards the waiting door of his captain’s cabin. “Now come on, it’s time to get cleaned up. I want you well rested for when we come up on the _Queen Rose._ ”

The _Queen Rose_ was, Dick had learned, Slade’s current target. A relative newcomer to piracy in these parts of the world. She had been stolen in the dead of night from a navy port two years ago, as part of a new fleet of advanced ships that were designed to be dangerously fast across the open water. The culprits had been ambitious in their thievery, taking one of the very ships that were meant to catch men such as them, and as such a contract for their lives had soon been put out. 

Slade had been chasing her for weeks before Dick came on board, hoping to catch her and her crew off guard at various points. But no matter how cunning his traps or ferocious his attack, each time she had managed to slip through his fingers.

That is, until now.

Despite his promise, and Dick’s own impatience to find those responsible for his family’s murders, Slade was unyielding in the matter of his present contract. His word was his bond, he’d said, and he would not lose face or honour by betraying it. Only when the _Queen Rose_ wascaught would they turn their attention to catching the _Blue Wraith_ and her partners, but not one second before.

With that knowledge in hand, Dick had quickly come to a decision.

“I can help you. Turn the wind in your favour, if you’ll let me.” He’d told Slade, walking into his cabin days before with a distinct lack of decorum. There had been little in the way of rank on board his family’s boat, and it was hard to get used to the idea of it now. “Give me the chance and I swear they will no longer outrun you.”

Slade had given him a look, slow and considering. He’d asked Dick to show him some of what he was capable of before, minor feats of water mastery, such as his ability to turn saltwater to fresh, but this was something new. Something bigger. Something that was a stepping stone to once again summoning a storm under his own power.

Then, finally, he had smiled, “Show me.” his only words, and now here they are, coming up on the _Queen Rose’_ shiding place, and Dick is about to put his claim to the test.

“When the fighting begins, it’s up to you if you want to remain in here or stay by my side.” Slade tells him as soon as they’re inside his cabin and out of sight or hearing of the rest of the crew. He help himself to a cup of water before anything else, drinking it down in one long gulp before pulling out a clean shirt from the chest at the foot of his bed. He tugs the white fabric over his broad shoulders, but leaves the front of it open as he tosses a second towards Dick (it hasn’t struck him as odd yet that Slade keeps him dressed in his own too-large clothes, rather than ordering a sailor closer to Dick’s size to share with him instead). “I’ll give you a real sword to use if that’s what you wish, but you’ve already done your part here by enabling us to catch up to her.”

Dick shakes his head as he slips the garment on, rolling the sleeves up over his wrists out of what is now habit. “No, if there's to be fighting I want to help you. These men may not be the ones who murdered my family, but they’re still pirates, and I’m going to have to fight for real sometime. It might as well be now, right?”

There’s a palpable feeling of approval in the air as Slade smiles down at him, “Good boy.” He praises, “Just remember what I’ve taught you and you’ll be fine.”

Just like with the clothing, he doesn’t think about how peculiar it is that Slade so rarely calls him by his actual name, preferring to use ‘boy’ or ‘kid’ instead. Not when the tone of his voice is always warm enough to make up for it, turning what should be a dismissive word into a term of affection.

Dick fights not to let the nerves he now feels beneath his skin show as he nods along. “I hope so.”

“And I know so.” Slade finally buttons up his shirt and pulls on his overcoat before stepping to Dick’s side again. This time his hand grips firmly onto his shoulder in a way that is meant to reassure. “You’ve come a long way in a short amount of time. Better than any pupil I’ve had before as a matter of fact. You can do this.”

Dick allows himself the luxury of leaning into that touch. “Thank you, I… I’ll try to remember that.”

“Good.” Slade smiles again. “Now let’s go put those powers of yours to the test.”

*

Later, after the battle is done, Dick is shaking as he stumbles and sinks against the mast of the _Queen Rose._ There is blood on the blade Slade gave him, and on his hands and in his clothing. He didn’t - he didn’t know… he didn’t imagine that it would be so… so…

The wind Dick summoned had done its part; not only in allowing _The Ravager_ to catch up to the pirate ship, but also in seeing her safely run aground on top of a nearby reef where she would have no chance of fleeing from them again. And Dick had thought that would be it, that as Slade had called across to her crew to surrender, they would do the sensible thing and give up their arms rather than fight a pointless battle, but it hadn’t been so.

Perhaps they were too well aware that, for most of them, they were set to die whether they let themselves be captured or not. So rather than face the hangman’s noose, they had opted for the chance to die with a blade in their hands instead.

Admirable, Slade had called it, before giving the order to attack. Dick himself had not been so sure, and now…

He’d meant to fight. He’d said that, but to kill… that was something entirely different.

Dick had thought he was ready to take that step, that he had the conviction necessary to do what had to be done with no regrets. It was only when he was face to face with another man across crossed steel blades that he’d begun to doubt himself, but by that time - and with him too inexperienced to do otherwise and still survive in the heat of battle - he hadn’t been given much of a choice.

Heavy boots make the stained wood of the deck creak in front of him, then Slade is crouching, easing himself down into Dick’s field of vision. “Dick?” The use of his name is rare enough to command his attention through the haze, “Look at me, kid; are you all right?”

He wants to shout no. Wants to scream his horror to the winds he summoned to fill _The Ravager’s_ sails. He hasn’t felt this terrible since the night his family died, as his soul is now weighed heavy with the dawning enormity of the task he’s sworn to undertake.

When he faces the other two ships and their captains, those responsible for burning the home he grew up on and slaughtering everyone he ever knew, will he feel the same way he does now? Will he be able to cut them down without hesitating? And if he does, will he regret it the way he almost does now over the lives of the crew of the _Queen Rose_?

He isn’t sure, and that thought is one that scares him.

But Slade expects an answer, and Dick does his best to give him the one he thinks he will want to hear. “I will be.” He says, and it’s not a lie. He’ll have to be, if he means to see this through to the end.

Slade doesn’t argue, only watches him for an unnervingly long amount of time before he finally nods. “I believe you.” Then, with an easy strength, hauls Dick back up onto his feet again. “Go on, back to _The Ravager_ with you. The rest of the crew and I will deal with the clean up here. In the meantime you can rest in my cabin, if you choose. I’ll be by to speak with you again shortly.” His fingers squeeze Dick’s arm before letting go. “You did good today, kid. Soon, I promise you you’ll be able to do even better.”

Dick nods numbly, unable to bring himself to say anything else. He staggers back to the ship and Slade’s cabin, grateful for the generosity that was shown in allowing him to come and hide in here rather than stay stuck in the same cramped quarters he had been given to share with the rest of the crew (or more commonly, the space where he prefers to sleep outside on the upper deck, underneath the watch of the stars so that he can hear the sound of the waves more clearly around him). 

Sleeping alone means he doesn’t have to listen to their talk, which while now mostly ambivalent towards him, also carries with it an undercurrent of belief that he has somehow bewitched their captain as an explanation for the favouritism Slade displays towards him. 

None of which is something Dick can rightly bring himself to care about now, as he strips off his bloody shirt and falls down onto the soft cotton sheets of Slade’s bed, exhausted beyond measure. They smell faintly like the man himself, like musk and sweat and smoke. Dick swallows hard as he presses his nose to the pillow, trying to chase that scent; hoping that it might be enough to replace the stink of blood and oil in his nostrils.

And eventually it does, he dozes, but it’s not a restful sleep. Dick’s dreams are replaced by nightmares, flashes of flames and lightning in the air; illuminating the waves of blood and bodies being washed into the sea, where they sink so far down beneath the water that only the merfolk would ever have a chance of knowing their final resting place. 

He tosses and turns in the wake of those dark visions, whimpering into the shadowy corners of the cabin, until the time comes that a large hand settles in his hair. Only then do the nightmares finally cease.

*

It’s sweet how quickly the boy comes to trust him; the only thing Slade needed to do to make that trust a reality was keep his word. Which, as his reputation proves, is no hardship for him. He is always a man who will do exactly that. And sweeter still than the earning of his trust is the fact that, beyond his initial fascination with Dick Grayson’s power and its potential use in his own designs, Slade finds himself developing something of a genuine affection for the boy as well. 

He’s smart, quick, a ferocious learner with a mind that never stops working, and he takes to the skills Slade has to teach him like a fish to water. Never before has he had such an apt pupil. Not even amongst his own blood.

After that first test of his mettle, Dick does not break, or shy back as Slade initially worried he might. If anything he grows even more determined to stay his course, demanding that Slade teach him the rest of what he knows. How to fight with sword and knife, as well as wrestle and turn the acrobatic skills Slade had been pleased to learn he already possessed to the art of combat rather than entertainment.

It’s a pleasure to watch him move about the ship. Light on his feet and in the air. He climbs and swings between the deck and rigging as if he has wings, preferring to perch himself up in the crow’s nest on top of the tallest mast like a bird whenever he calls the winds to fill their sails at his behest. Yet even that entrancing sight is nothing compared to the wonder that comes with watching the way the water welcomes Dick into its arms whenever he takes the chance to swim.

Since the grounding of the _Queen Rose_ and the collection of the bounty on her crew, they’ve been sailing south towards the next destination Slade has in mind to help his new protege complete his pilgrimage, and it’s here in these tranquil tropical seas that he makes a decision to stop off at one of the larger islands in the area. Both as a means to allow the crew the chance to stretch their legs and stave off any growing feelings of cabin fever, and to restock the ship with fresh water and meat. Men can only live off dry salt biscuits and lime juice for so long, after all, and the chance for something better than that plain fare will help lift their spirits for the remaining voyage ahead.

Slade gives Evans command of the hunting party, ordering him to lead them inland while he himself remains behind to mind the ship with Dick. He can feel the unspoken question in the man’s eyes at his decision, the growing seeds of mistrust that were sown the moment Dick came on board, but he remains implacable. There are better things for him to be doing with his time today than foraging through a jungle for wild pigs and coconuts.

Still, if this state of affairs continues, Slade might have to find a way get rid of the man soon. His first mate is easily replaceable, whereas the young sea witch who had fallen into his arms is not.

Between the pair of them, it’s an easy choice to make.

After the crew has gone ashore, he calls Dick over to him and together they go through the daily routine of his lessons. Slade has been expanding his repertoire slowly since the battle on the _Queen Rose_ , steadily teaching him more and more, and today is no exception. He pushes the boy to the very limits of his endurance and power, and by the time he calls an end to it they’re both tired and sweating. Afterwards, Slade expects Dick to join him in resting out on the deck, but he’s surprised when he chooses to jump up onto the rail of the ship instead.

“Do you swim?” Dick asks of him in that moment, eyes hopeful as he hangs onto a nearby line for balance. He rocks back and forth on his toes over the narrow beam of wood, apparently not so exhausted after all.

Slade allows himself a smile as he watches him. “When I need to.”

“Only then?”

This time he raises an eyebrow. “Are you asking me to swim with you, boy?”

A blush shines over sun-kissed cheeks, one even the cocky smile on Dick’s face cannot cover. “If you can keep up.”

“You know there are sharks in these waters.” Slade teases him in turn as he stands up, removing his boots before walking to join Dick where he stands on the railing, poised to dive over the edge of the ship into the water.

Dick grins back, his expression light and mischievous in a way Slade hasn’t seen from him before. “There are, but not here. Don’t worry, though, I promise I’ll protect you if any do come our way.”

He leaps before Slade can manage a retort, cutting a graceful arc in the air before disappearing beneath the water with scarcely a ripple. Slade chuckles before diving to join him, creating rather more of a splash on the way down. 

The water is cool, but not cold. A pleasant shock to his system before Slade kicks his feet and breaks free of the surface.

When he looks around him, it’s to find the boy is nowhere in sight, but Slade simply waits, not panicking, and eventually his patience is rewarded as the water erupts upwards into a fountain near him, followed by the sound of laughter and then Dick himself. He looks more alive now than he has since the night of the storm, blue eyes dancing with their own inner light as he swims circles around Slade, twisting through the water with all the easy grace of a dolphin, and even Slade has to laugh when he starts to blow bubbles next; a child’s magic trick perfected by an adult’s hand.

“You seem happier.” he observes,

“It’s the water, it always makes me feel better.” Dick confesses as he stops swimming to float on his back, balancing one bubble between his fingertips. It reflects the colours of the world around it, blue, pink and green. “It has ever since I was a child. The first time my mother carried me onto dry land, she said I wouldn’t stop crying until she took me back onto our ship. She said it was as if I couldn’t bear to be away from it.”

“Are you sure you don’t have mer-blood somewhere in your family line?”

Dick blushes again at the notion, the colour deeply fetching when brought against the black ink of the wet hair clinging to his face. “No, I don’t think so. I mean, it’s not impossible, nothing is. But my parents never said anything of it. Not that I can remember, anyway.”

“Well, I would most certainly believe it. Even if you didn’t have those abilities.” Slade swims closer, kicking his feet to keep the waves from carrying him away, and the next bubble pops between Dick’s fingers before it’s even finished forming. “Half my crew already does, in fact.”

The blush deepens. “But I do.” Dick says more seriously, to cover up his embarrassment. “I do have them. And you said you’d take me to those who can teach me to master them better.”

“And I mean to. We’re already on our way there, as a matter of fact.”

“And after that…?”

“After that, we’ll go after those who killed your family.” Slade assures him.

Dick nods, before directing his eyes back down to the water. In these parts it’s clear enough to see right to the bottom of the sea floor.

“Is something wrong?”

“No. No, I just…” he swallows. “I’ve been thinking. When we find them, I want to capture them alive if we can. I want to see them stand trial for what they’ve done.”

Slade frowns. “Is seeing them hung really that much different than killing them by your own hand?”

“It’s justice.” Dick says quietly. “And they’ve wronged more people than just me.”

Personally, Slade is of the opinion that a couple of decapitated heads are much easier to transport in his hold than live prisoners, but he’s not stupid. He senses a wall here, one that will not be breached if he tries to force it down. Not yet, anyway. Better he allow the boy all his fancies in this matter until it is done.

Then, once he’s earned his loyalty as well as his trust, things may be different.

“Then I suppose if it means that much to you, I’ll do my best to see them taken alive.”

“Thank you, Slade.” Dick smiles again, though the expression is not quite so joyful as it was before. A pity.

Slade doesn’t chastise him for the slip of using his name when it’s just the two of them, as he would were they in front of the rest of the crew. Those men needed to be reminded of their place in the rank and file; their belief in that structure was what kept them in line. Dick on the other hand is special, and though Slade may change out the rest of his crew from time to time, the boy he means to keep as long as he can.

“You don’t have to thank me. I keep telling you that.” he hums, kicking his feet as the current tries to pull him away once more. “Now, that’s enough grim talk for one day. You were having fun weren’t you?”

Dick hesitates, but then the tension in his body eases and a secretive smile crosses his lips. It’s fascinating to watch the way the water cradles him in this moment, holding him in its arms as a mother would her infant child. “You’re right, I was.”

Slade sees the wave coming, but there’s not much he can do to defend against it as it crashes over his head, soaking his hair anew and momentarily pushing him down into the water. He splutters when he breaks the surface again, emerging to the sound of Dick’s raucous laughter before he smirks, finding himself to be far more amused than he is offended. 

“You’re going to pay for that, kid.”

“Yeah?” Dick grins back at him, the curve of his mouth easy and infectious. “Prove it.”

In the water, Slade doesn’t stand much of a chance against him. But he does enjoy the sight of the boy’s sour pout when, after they eventually climb back aboard the ship thirty minutes later, he takes a mop and bucket from the deck and shoves them into his hands.

“That’s not fair.” Dick grumbles, holding one component in each hand like they’re his own personal ball and chain.

And Slade laughs as he heads back to his cabin to change clothes and dry off. “One thing you should learn, kid, if you’re ever going to challenge me, you better make sure you’re the one holding all the aces.”

*

Slade has been around long enough to understand the truth of the world he lives in. 

Across the course of his unnaturally long life, he has experienced more than most men have ever dreamed of. He knows there are truly merfolk and monsters lurking beneath the surface of the ocean, and beaches where the selkies leave their skins behind to sunbathe. While in certain inland lakes, he knows that one should always watch out for the sight of a beautiful horse eager to be ridden, lest you wanted to be dragged down and eaten among the reeds. 

All those creatures and more were real. Magic was real, and those who practised it among humankind not so rare as many might think. He had met many such folk in his time. Killed some, and made allies of others.

It’s to one of the latter that he takes Dick. A witch of lesser renown who owes him a favour, and one that fears him enough not to try anything foolish while she tutors the boy. They spend three weeks in her company while Dick learns the ins and outs of true magic, beyond the simple spells he’d developed himself purely through instinct.

Control is the most important thing. Control and understanding the nature of his powers, and in this too he excels. Slade is pleased with his choice by the end of those three weeks, watching Dick stand in the surf with the blue water of the lagoon where the witch lives churning around his thighs, and the wind whipping his hair around his face as he creates a whirlpool in its centre. The circumference of the vortex is greater than the span of Slade’s own ship (now safely moored outside the nearby reef), and everything within the lagoon, fish and driftwood alike, can’t help but be drawn in by its power.

The scope of it is extraordinary, and once such strength is turned towards real enemies rather than innocent sea life, the results will be devastating, of that Slade has no doubt.

And clearly, he’s not the only one who thinks that way.

“Be careful with that boy,” The witch warns him privately when they’re preparing to leave, her withered hand catching at the sleeve of his coat. “The ocean loves him, more than I’ve ever known it to love anyone before.”

“I intend to be.” Slade says calmly, not the least bit worried. He knows what he’s doing.

“I mean it. He’s a good boy. If you hurt him…”

He narrows his eye at the unspoken implication. This time Slade glowers back at her as he yanks his arm free of her grasp.

“I promise you, the least of my intentions is to hurt him. Now, go back to your hut, hag, unless you want me to visit your hovel again tonight and silence that grey old tongue of yours forever.”

She cowers back, her moment of bravery done. Then hugging her tattered shawl around her shoulders, hurries back into her home out of sight.

“She’s not saying goodbye?” Dick asks when Slade walks over to him, eyes darting towards the hut as he juggles a collection of brightly coloured seashells between his hands. 

Slade shakes his head as he moves to heave their waiting longboat off the beach and back into the water. “Don’t worry, lad. You’ll see her again, God willing. But for now, I think we’ve delayed on our next mission long enough, don’t you?”

The distraction works. Dick drops the seashells into the water as he eagerly jumps into the longboat and Slade climbs in after him. Then they’re pushing off, this time drawn by magic back towards the _Ravager_ with no need for the use of oars.

*

A month later, Dick stands poised on the bow of Slade’s ship, looking out across the sea at the conical shape of the island looming on the horizon. It’s night, and all the world around them is dark. The skies were grey with cloud all throughout the day as they completed the last leg of their journey to get here, and now, because of them, there are no stars to see by, no moon, and that too is all to their benefit.

This is the night. The night where they’ll end things; the night where he’ll finally have justice for everything he lost. That Slade has promised him.

After they had left the witch’s home behind them, Slade had sailed _The Ravager_ north again, to the more familiar waters and towns his contacts lived in. There, he and Dick had together moved onto the next stage of their quest: investigating the whereabouts of the three ships responsible for the murder of Dick’s parents. 

It had been a discomforting experience at first to follow Slade into the places where he found that information. Taverns and gambling dens, even… even brothels. Places where Dick’s ears had burned as he kept his eyes fixed solely on his feet while Slade passed over coin and threats in equal measure to learn what they needed to know. Some of the women, and even the men, in those places had stared too keenly at him. Their eyes hungry as if they would like to snatch him from Slade’s side even without knowing of the wider value of his powers.

The looks had made his skin crawl, and his head had been made heavy by the scent of the incense and aphrodisiac laden smoke that filled the rooms in those places. Because of that, he’d made sure to stick as close to his captain as he possibly could in those situations; comforted by Slade’s imposing height and visage, which did more to dissuade any of the watcher’s attention from him than Dick himself ever could. 

(Dick felt - _feels_ safe with him. It was a fact that over the last few months they’d spent together, Slade and _The Ravager_ have come to be the closest things he now has to a home. And maybe that explains the churning in his stomach now. Because once this over, will he even have them?)

But the discomfort was worth it in the end as they found their final lead at the hands of a disgruntled former member of those pirate crews. Almost disappointingly, it seemed that the storm he’d summoned really had done away with the _Blue_ _Wraith_ back on that terrible night, but in the process of hearing that news, they had also learned that her partner ships, the _Red Dragon_ and _Golden_ _Chimera_ respectively, were still sailing free. 

Dick wonders if the matching names of the ships were pure coincidence, or if their respective captains had conspired to rechristen them all to fit the theme once they decided to swear their allegiance to each other.

The location of an island had been given. A hidden place where those two ships came together to pool their resources and plan their next moves. Almost immediately Slade had set a course, and in the weeks that followed Dick had thrown himself into practising his new skills, over and over in a determined attempt to gain even greater mastery over his magic before they reached their destination. 

Slade had even excused him from his other duties aboard the ship so that he could focus on it. A luxury he’d never allowed him before.

And now that the time is here, all he can think of is the memory of blood and flames that had never left him; his mother’s voice screaming his name before the sword ran her through, and his father trying to fight back against the invaders before he too was overcome.

It’s no wonder that he finds his hands are trembling.

“Easy now,” Slade’s voice interrupts the train of bad memories, seconds before one of his gloved hands moves to cover Dick’s own for a moment on the railing, stilling their shaking before slipping round to rest reassuringly against the small of his back. “It’s going to be all right. Just remember everything you’ve learned. How far you’ve come to get to this point. You’re ready. You can do this.”

“I know.” He whispers in turn. “I know.”

Taking a deep breath, Dick closes his eyes and concentrates. They’d circled round the surrounding area to set anchor on the south side of the island, and to the north he can now feel the two pirate ships sitting in the water, fat and secure in their position like sleeping waterfowl.

All lights have been extinguished on _The Ravager_ in preparation for their attack, and now Dick adds to that camouflage. With a long exhale, he pulls water vapour up from the sea, and sends out fog to cover the island and all its surrounding waters.

“Good.” Slade says warmly in his ear, and the pleasurable twitch the praise inspires in his stomach helps ease Dick’s nerves, if only a little. “That’s very good. Now come, it’s to the longboats we must go.”

Even with Dick’s help, trying to sail _The Ravager_ blindly through this fog would be a hardship. To that end, they’d come up with a simpler plan: separate the crew into all the available longboats and row up upon the _Dragon_ and _Chimera_ in the night. Slade’s men would then board the ships silently, and hopefully catch most of the pirates off-guard and sleeping. That way they would take both ships - and their captains - with minimal bloodshed. And if something should go wrong…

Dick’s hands shake as he feels the water stir restlessly beneath him, reacting to his own unease. His suppressed anger and grief is still so raw beneath the surface. It churns like the contents of his stomach, and he knows that no matter what happens after this, he has to succeed tonight, even if it means letting that power overtake him again.

Slade leads him with a guiding hand to their boat. His constant touch a comfort Dick doesn’t want to lose.

The _Chimera_ is their target, which leaves the _Dragon_ to the other half of Slade’s crew under the command of his first mate. Evans - who has never warmed to Dick - glares at them both before they separate, but he barely notices. Too busy holding his breath as they row their way around the island’s coast, until finally the looming shape of the _Chimera_ becomes apparent through the fog, and they make their way up to her starboard flank. 

Dick watches as Slade expertly takes out one of the men on watch with a crossbow, shooting the bolt straight through the vulnerable flesh of his throat. Witnessing death still makes him feel sick to his stomach, but as Slade explained it to him, trying to take the guards alive would take longer, and give each man a greater opportunity to alert the rest of the pirates to their presence. Then there would be greater bloodshed, contrary to what Dick wants.

He hadn’t been happy about that part of the plan, but he accepted the necessity of it.

With the sentries dealt with, the rest of their team descends down below the decks to deal with the sleeping pirates there, while Slade leads Dick forwards to the captain’s cabin. He doesn’t even bother to pick the lock at this point, just breaks the double doors inwards with a powerful kick aimed below the lock.

To his credit, James Bartholomew, the _Golden Chimera_ ’s captain, reacts quickly to their intrusion. Leaping from his bed, he lunges for the sword he keeps beside it, but his reflexes are no match for Slade’s own. Before Dick can even blink, he’s thrown a dagger across the room, impaling the pirate’s hand into the wall of the ship behind him.

Bartholomew screams of course, but as the matching cries coming from the decks below them now attest, he’ll have no help coming from that direction.

“Captain Bartholomew,” Slade says silkily, stepping forwards towards him first, “What a pleasure to meet you finally.”

“Gods damn you!” The man curses, trying to yank the dagger and his hand free. “Who are you?! How did you get on board?! What are—”

“We are the men who’ve come to see that you face justice for your many crimes.” Slade says companionably, as he draw his sword from its scabbard and presses the tip to Bartholomew’s throat. Bartholomew stills immediately, swallowing hard as his eyes flick between them. Satisfied that he’s not going anywhere, Slade then turns his head back towards Dick. “And my companion here will be the one who decides the manner of it. What say you, boy? Here’s one of the scum for you’ve been looking for; shall we end his miserable life end here, or will it be the noose after all?”

Dick feels frozen as he stares at the pirate. Bartholomew is a big man, though not as big as Slade of course, with ruddy skin and broad features that might have looked kind under another light. As it is, he’s now glaring at them as if he would to see the skin peeled from their bones, but still, even though he’d said the noose to Slade before, Dick is suddenly not so sure which course of action he prefers.

“You ordered the death of my family.” He says, almost in a dream.

Bartholomew stares at him. There is no recognition in his dark eyes, or in the heavy crinkling of his brow.

“You and your partners.” He continues. There is water in the room, kept in containers that now fall over. There is water too, in men’s bodies. He can feel it in his skin. “You had them killed because you wanted to kidnap me. To possess me. You had them killed, because of your own greed. You…”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Bartholomew denies, his anger now starting to be replaced by fear.

“Don’t you?” Slade tuts, then fills him in. “The boy’s name is Richard Grayson. He’s a sea witch, the son of entertainers that were slaughtered under the agreement of yourself and your friends so you could take his power for yourselves. Because of you his family is dead, and the _Blue Wraith_ sits at the bottom of the ocean.”

Now Bartholomew remembers. Now he is completely afraid.

“Here or the noose, Dick?” Slade asks him again. “Would you have vengeance by your own hands, or leave it to the courts?”

Dick shakes as his hands clench ever tighter into fists at his sides. He could take the sword in Slade’s hand and drive it into Bartholomew’s throat. He could drown him with any of the water sources in the room. Stop the blood flowing in his veins. He could… he could…

He takes a deep breath, thinking of his mother and father and everything they ever taught him. He shakes his head. “The courts. I… let the law bring justice for his crimes.”

For a moment, Slade is still, but finally, almost reluctantly it feels, he nods. “Very well.” Then quick as a flash, slams the hilt of his sword into Bartholomew’s head, knocking him out instantly. Dick watches as the pirate’s great weight sinks down to the floor, while one hand remains pinned to the wall above his head by Slade’s dagger.

“Slade…” Dick swallows hard. He doesn’t know what he means to say next as he starts to move towards him, but whatever it was, the moment is broken by a sudden tremendous clatter at the door.

“Captain!” One of Slade’s men shouts, “It’s the _Dragon,_ the boarding party, it…”

Slade’s eye narrows, then he’s running past Dick out onto the deck, and - with one final glance spared back at Bartholomew behind him - Dick runs after him as well.

The trouble is clear as soon as they step outside. Across the foggy bay there are sounds of shouting and fighting, screams of pain as men die.

While their own takeover of the _Golden Chimera_ had gone smoothly, the other half of the crew’s assault on the _Dragon_ clearly had not.

“Blast!” Slade curses. “Clear the air, Dick. Now.”

Lifting his hands with a dry swallow, Dick does as he’s told. On the other side of the bay the _Red Dragon_ ’s long shape and scarlet sails become clear, as does the chaos on her deck under the revealed light of the moon.

“She’s weighing anchor, Captain.” One of the nearby sailors says unnecessarily. The sight of her sails unfurling gives that much away. “They must have killed all our men, now they’ll be fleeing or coming at us.”

“Fat chance.” Slade says darkly, his eyes turn to Dick. “It’s time, boy. This is the moment for you to prove yourself; stop them before they get away.”

“Me…? What… how…”

“You know how.” He finds his arm taken in a strong grasp. Slade pulls him close, forcing Dick to tilt his head up and up so that he can look him in the eye. “You must stop them, or things will only be worse. My remaining men can’t fight them off while keeping the pirates here contained at the same time.”

“But I… I don’t know if I—”

“You can.” He’s assured, and it’s like the night of the storm all over again. Slade guides him forwards to the _Chimera_ ’s railing, standing at Dick’s back with his hands resting on his hips. “Stop them, before they come here to kill us, or we’re forced to chase them all over again.”

Dick trembles as the wind picks up around them, feeding into his unease. 

No. No he must have control. He has to have control, and Slade is right. He has to stop them, or else the souls of his family may never rest easily. But this… this is...

It helps when the bow of the _Dragon_ turns to come towards them, rather than move out to sea. She means to attack them, and that fact leaves Dick with little choice.

He closes his eyes, letting his senses sink downwards into the ebb and flow of the waters below. He feels the currents reaching back for him, eager to please, to act; feels the very veins and arteries of the ocean as he intimately as he does those in his own body, as if he and the sea are but two separate parts of the same massive organism.

Somewhere, he reasons, there must be a heart, huge and beating in the deepest, blackest depths. Connecting every water source on the planet to one central point. Sometimes Dick even dreams of finding it, but for now…

The whirlpool starts small, just a twist of water in the space between both ships, then it grows steadily larger. And by the time the _Red Dragon_ realises the trap laid in front of her, it’s already too late. 

Dick closes his eyes harder and tighter as more energy is pulled out of him. As the clouds gather in the skies above to match the raging of the waters below. There is so much _power_ , so much potential, that he hardly thinks of the reality of what he’s doing. The ship being ripped apart and the lives of the men taken with her - wood cracking, voices _screaming_ \- inconsequential next to the addicting flow of the ocean through him.

Instead, he thinks of Slade’s hands on his hips. His steady presence at his back. The idea that, with this one last act, it will all finally be over.

There is only silence after it is done. Nothing but broken pieces of floating wood and sails now remain of the _Red Dragon_ , and Slade’s own crew dare not speak a word, too in awe of what they’ve just witnessed.

No. Not awe. _Terror_ is a better word, Dick realises. They’re in terror, of him and what he can do.

“Kid?” Slade says softly in his ear.

“Take me back.” Dick whispers, still unwilling to open his eyes as he sags backwards in his hold. Overhead the sky rumbles with the threat of incoming rain. “To _The Ravager_. To your cabin. Please.”

“As you wish.”

How exactly they return, Dick doesn’t remember. He has a vague idea of Slade carrying him, the same way he did the first night they met, and holding him in his lap as they are rowed back to their waiting ship by the other sailors. The parallels are there, and he’s grateful once again as he sinks down into the bed, taking the cup of potent red wine Slade hands him with trembling fingers. 

He doesn’t like the taste, but the numbing effect of the alcohol is more than welcome.

Slade’s weight bows the mattress as he sits beside him. “You’ll be all right.”

“Will I?” Dick asks him quietly, desperate for that reassurance.

“Yes, you will.” Slade assures him as he reaches for Dick’s hand, covering it firmly with his own. “What you just did was justice, nothing more. They were pirates, Dick, and the man who commanded them one of the scum responsible for your family’s murder. Remember that.”

“I do. I do remember that. I just…” he swallows hard, “I never dreamed before all this began that I would ever use my magic in that way. I never wanted to.”

“But you saved lives by doing it. The lives of good men.” Slade points out. This time his hand remains where it is. “And for that I’m grateful.”

The reminder does make him feel a little better. “I would hate to see you die.”

“And I you.” Slade says, not without some amusement. His hand squeezes Dick’s fingers tighter. “Dick—”

Dick doesn’t exactly know what makes him do it. Grief, shock, genuine emotion for the man in front of him, or perhaps some pungent combination of all three. He leans up, leans over, and presses his mouth against Slade’s.

The startled inhale from the older man doesn’t escape his ears, and for a moment he fears… but no. Slade’s arms are suddenly around him, dragging him closer up from the bed to his body. Dick drops his wine to the floor with a clatter as his hands latch onto Slade’s broad shoulders, whimpering when the kiss is returned tenfold.

It’s not like kissing the girls he’d met in the ports his family visited; soft, sweet, stolen things, all of them. Slade’s beard is rough against his jaw, his lips thin, while the muscles of his arms are strong and hard around him. Dick shivers as he parts his mouth to that force, whimpering again when Slade takes the invitation to thrust his tongue between his lips.

“Are you sure?” Is all that’s asked of him when they break apart.

Dick nods. “You’re all I have left now. Everything else is gone. My friends, my family… even my vengeance is done. Please…” He swallows hard, “Don’t leave me alone.”

“Never, my boy.” Slade’s hand cups the back of his head as he kisses him again, then pushes Dick down against the bed sheets before reaching for the lacings of his shirt.

“Never.”

*

Slade owns a townhouse in Happy Harbour; the port where they take their prisoners to be judged for their crimes. It’s strange to Dick to live surrounded by stone rather than wood, and to feel solid earth beneath his feet rather than the rise and tilt of water. But he finds himself comforted when Slade opens the shutters of his bedroom’s windows to let the smell of fresh salt air from the sea flow into the house, giving Dick a tangible connection to that part of himself even here.

As the weeks pass between the trial and the execution, it occurs to him that he’s never spent so much time on the shore before. He’s not so sure he likes it either, it’s too still. Certainly can’t bring himself to grow used to the feeling, no matter how hard he tries.

So each day he walks down to the harbour while Slade is preoccupied by other business, buying cockles, mussels and crab legs from nearby market stalls to eat with the money he insisted Dick take as reward for his part of the venture, and sighs as he licks the brine from his fingers, sitting with the water swirling around his feet on the docks near where _The Ravager_ is tethered and dreaming of the day when they’ll set sail again. It’s a growing habit that makes the wait easier for him to bear, as do the nights. Because the nights...

The nights are filled with Slade. Warm conversations, and dinners comprised of unfamiliar food and drink prepared by the servants who look after his home while he’s away. 

Being waited on is a new kind of experience for Dick, and one he finds himself largely uncomfortable with. He suspects he breaks all kinds of protocol on a daily basis by how he talks to the maids and Slade’s house steward, Wintergreen, but luckily Slade seems far more amused by his behaviour than offended, as he doesn’t correct Dick on any of it, only listens to him talk about his day, and continues to assuage his doubts as the time until the hanging drags on. Then, at the end of every evening, takes him to bed, where the skillful touch of his hands and lips leaves him with little room to think about anything else.

Dick wears the marks of that lovemaking like talismans beneath his clothes on the day they finally go to the gallows.

His hands clench into fists as the surviving pirates, Captain Bartholomew and those repeat offenders who already had brands on their arms when they were brought in, and therefore can’t be granted any mercy for their crimes, are led up the short wooden steps to the waiting ropes. There’s quite a crowd gathered to watch the execution, and Slade and Dick themselves are stood in the middle of it, close enough to hear every word as the offender’s sentences are read aloud and the rest of the watchers jeer. Even the crows are eager for the show to begin, as they sit already perched on the heavy oak beam at the top of the gallows, cocking their heads and cawing loudly between every shouted word.

Dick feels nauseous suddenly, watching the birds.

“Are you all right?” Slade murmurs at his side.

Dick shakes his head, but he doesn’t look away either, and Slade doesn’t ask him again.

By the end of it, a stage filled with purpling faces, dangling feet and bloated tongues, he wants to feel better. He wants to feel vindicated, like every step he’d taken since his family’s deaths has been justified by this moment, but he doesn’t. Instead he still feels sick, and empty, and by the time the first crow drops down to sit on Bartholomew’s shoulder, pecking at his ear, Dick has had enough.

Slade on the other hand, seems to have no such qualms as they start to walk away from the square with the rest of the dissipating crowd. 

“Well, I admit it,” he says, “you were right, there was a certain satisfaction to seeing them hanged. Even if it was a longer wait to see the deed done than I usually like. Still,” his hand settles on Dick’s shoulder, “Now that it _is_ done, you and I are finally free to move on to other ventures.”

Years later, Dick will wonder if this - more than any other - was the moment he should have picked up on the warning signs that the man he’d fallen in love with, and given himself to, was not all that he presented himself to be. “Other ventures?”

“Don’t you miss the sea?”

Dick closes his eyes at the question. Right now, in this moment, there’s nothing he wants more than to submerge himself in those waters and know again the comforting motions of the waves around him. “Of course I do.”

“Then there is no reason for us to linger here any longer. I’ve already looked into new quarry for us to pursue, and hired more men to fill the crew. The ship is restocked and ready to weigh anchor as soon as we are.” Slade smiles, “We may even find more teachers for you to further pursue the study of magic, if that’s what you want.”

Dick stops at the edge of the square, out of the way of the other pedestrians and horses and carts now starting to make their way through now that the show is over. “Slade…”

Slade takes two extra steps before stopping. “Yeah, kid?”

“This... Does it not… bother you at all?”

“To see thieves and murderers get their due?”

Hearing it put like that already casts doubts on Dick’s feelings, but still he nods.

Slade sighs and turns to him. “No. It doesn’t, and it shouldn’t bother you either. Death is an ugly thing, but this is the law, justice, and the deaths of these men protect the innocent from harm. That’s what you wanted, isn’t it?”

“Yes, but I—”

“It will get easier.” Slade promises him. This time both of his hands come to rest on Dick’s shoulders. “You'll see.”

But that’s the thing: he doesn’t know if he _wants_ it to get easier. He doesn’t know if it _should_. But at the same time, Slade is all he has left, the only one he has to trust, and without him and _The Ravager_ , there is no place left in the world that Dick feels he can belong. When he’s with Slade he has purpose, he has a connection, and after everything he’s done for him, he owes the man, doesn’t he? Slade could so easily have left and abandoned him after the first time they met, but instead he’d given Dick everything he’d ever asked him for.

He loves him, and without Slade, who knows where he would be now?

“If you say it, I believe it.” Dick manages to summon a smile, weak and feeble though it is. “You’ve never steered me wrong before.”

“And I never will.” Slade promises him, before putting his arm around Dick’s shoulders this time so that he might continue leading him down the cobbled street towards the harbour. “You and I, my boy, together we will do great things.”

Dick nods and leans into Slade as much as he is comfortable with in such a public setting. Ahead, he can see the blue glimmer of the ocean calling him home, and with it the promise of a future past his grief.

*

_Epilogue_

“So you loved him?”

The waters of the cove slosh peacefully around his thighs as Dick lies back on the wet sand with Jason beside him. This morning they’d moved from the rock pool to what little beach exists in his home to talk, and overhead the sky is now starting to turn from clear crystal blue to shades of amber and soft purple-pink: evidence of just how much time has passed since the beginning of his tale.

“Yes, I did.”

Jason’s claws stroke along Dick’s side, trying to comfort him for internal wounds that have long since scarred over; Dick appreciates the gesture, even if there’s not much difference it can make now. “Then what happened?”

“It was good for a time. A long time. I was with Slade six years before I came to my senses and realised I could deny the truth no longer.” 

Six years. Six years of his life given in love and a trust that was ultimately betrayed. That had maybe never been honoured to start with. It had been hard to tell with Slade, who held his feelings so tightly locked inside himself, and even now Dick hates that he can never be truly sure if the man had ever loved him in return, or if all the kisses and touches they’d shared were fuelled only by possession.

“What truth?”

“That he was never the person he made himself out to be. That he didn’t - _doesn’t_ care about justice, only the job, his contracts, and his own twisted honour. He helped me in the beginning because he knew it would earn him my loyalty, and once he had that he used me to do his dirty work for him. It was because of him that I...”

“You what?”

The sand shifts as Jason raises himself up on his elbows. His right shoulder is healing, so much faster than a human’s would, but still the movement hurts him. “What did he make you do?”

“He didn’t make me.” Dick sighs, “That’s the worst part about it. I trusted him. I believed in him, I needed to. He was all I had, and I loved him. In those days, it never seemed like too much to do anything he asked of me, and while I viewed him as a friend as well as a lover, it took me longer to realise that others didn’t look at him in the same way I did. He was feared, you know? By good people as well as bad, and as I stayed with him, gradually they began to fear me too. They called me his pet, the Terminator’s witch.”

Jason hisses as he shakes his head. Sand clings to his hair in wet clumps. “He manipulated you.”

“Yes.” Dick admits frankly, “He did.”

“That’s not your fault.”

“Isn’t it? I was young then, but that’s still no excuse for the things I did at his side, Jason. The lives I took unnecessarily. Not then, and not now.”

“What lives?” Jason keeps pushing for the truth, and because of the vow he made Dick can’t deny it to him.

“Pirates, mostly. Criminals. He knew he couldn’t push me too far on that. I never grew to like killing, but he did manage to convince me it was right in those cases, and I wanted to please him. I wanted him to keep loving me the same way I did him. To this day, I still don’t know if he ever really returned my feelings, or if I was just a useful tool to him all along.”

“Dick…”

“He hid the worst of it by leaving me behind when he went after other targets. Men and women who had done no wrong, and whose only crime was to be in the way of those who could afford to hire Slade to kill them.” He laughs bitterly, “I thought it was a sign of trust that he left me in charge of his ship. I thought it meant he believed me capable. I didn’t realise that it was a lie, a distraction. But gradually he grew overconfident. Maybe because he believed my love and loyalty towards him had grown strong enough by that point that I wouldn’t leave no matter what he asked of me.”

Jason says nothing now, waiting for him to go on.

“I was already starting to grow suspicious by that point. I was twenty-two, no longer a child. The dots were connecting, and then, finally, he…” This is the hardest part. Dick closes his eyes as he pulls out the unpleasant memories, concentrating on the cool sand at his back and the rough drag of scales where the comforting weight of Jason’s tail is draped across his legs. “He asked me to raise a wave. It was against a pirate settlement, one protected by a narrow channel; too dangerous for us to attempt to sail up through. The crew would have been slaughtered before we even got close. It sounded so reasonable when he explained it, no worse than anything he’d asked me to do before, but…

“There were… captives there. Hostages the pirates had taken. I found them afterwards, innocent men and women, tied with ropes beneath the ruins of the one of the houses. I asked Slade if he’d known...” Dick reaches and drags his hand down his face. “He called it a calculated risk, but later on I discovered that he’d been paid to make sure they died as well. That’s when we fought for the first time, and when I first realised the existence of the protections he’d taken out against me. That’s the thing about Slade, he’s always prepared for every eventuality. Even for the possibility that I might turn against him someday. Every spell I cast fell short, and every blow I did manage to strike through that defence he was skilled enough to stop before it landed. So I did the only thing I could do after that: I left him.”

Dick smiles bitterly, remembering the shouted demands for him to return to the ship. The bare anger on Slade’s face when Dick refused to heed his call. 

“I think that was the only time I ever truly managed to surprise him.”

“Did he ever try to get you back?”

“Many times. But I always refused,” If not always entirely resisted. “and though I couldn’t hurt him, I soon realised that he couldn’t contain me either. We’ve been stuck in this stalemate ever since.”

Jason clenches his teeth, nostrils and gills flaring as one. “I won’t let him hurt you again.”

Dick shakes his head as he reaches up so that his hand cups the back of Jason’s skull. “Jason, no, it’s—”

“You can’t hurt him, but I can.” Jason continues stubbornly, “His protections don’t apply to me. Once he claims the payment for the debt you took from me, I can kill him.”

“I won’t let you put yourself in danger to protect me, Jason.” Dick moves his hands to cradle his mer’s face between them. The memory of what happened yesterday is still so new and raw within him. “Not again.”

“But if we don’t do something, you’ll never be free! He’ll keep coming back to hurt you again.”

Dick grimaces, knowing it’s the truth. If two hundred years hasn’t been enough to break Slade’s obsession with him, no amount of time will. “You’re right. And I promise you we will figure something out, but in the meantime you must also promise me you won’t try to attack him again. Not alone, and not without running it by me first.”

Jason’s reluctance is clearly broadcast, but Dick keeps a firm grip on his face, forcing their eyes to meet until finally he bows his head in acceptance. “... fine. I promise.”

“Thank you.” Dick draws him down, placing a kiss first against his forehead, then his lips. “So, does that satisfy all your questions, little fish?”

“Not all of them.” Jason mutters, face now pressed against his neck. “But enough for today.”

“Good.” Dick sighs gratefully as the stars start to come out overhead. “Because I don’t want to think about him anymore, not tonight.”

They lie there together a while longer, as little by little, the waves of the incoming tide lap up higher against his legs and Jason’s tail both.

“... Dick?”

“Mm?”

“You don’t love him anymore, do you?”

When he looks up this time there’s starlight reflected in Jason’s eyes. Both the sight and the uncertainty on Jason’s face makes him forgive the question even as it’s asked.

“No Jason, not for a long time.” He sits up, pushing the merman back so they’re sat eye to eye in the surf as he takes those webbed hands in his own. There’s more he could say, about how even though that’s true, Slade still lays claim to some part of him. That there’s an attraction there that may never entirely die because of it, but to do so would only bring more harm than good.

There are better words to be said now, ones that will hopefully put to rest Jason’s doubts once and for all.

“The only one I love now is you.”

Jason smiles at him then, his sharp teeth brilliant white in the dark, and when he takes the opportunity to pull Dick deeper into the surf after him he gladly follows, letting the past sink once more to be locked into a chest in the back of his mind where it belongs. 

In the darkness of the water with Jason before him, the present is the only thing that matters.

**Author's Note:**

> *surprise JayDick at the end because I have poor self-control*
> 
> As always, any comments, kudos and feedback are well loved <3


End file.
